


Perchance to dream

by stormchasersteve



Series: Thundershield advent 2013 [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Battle of New York, Hurt Steve, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Protective Thor, Shawarma, Thundershield - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormchasersteve/pseuds/stormchasersteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thundershield advent days 18, 19 and more - after the battle of New York, the avengers go for shawarma, but Steve is so drowsy that he can't be waked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As the dust settled in the streets of New York, six tired and bruised warriors slumped around a table in a small Turkish restaurant. At the far end, the grubby blond head of Captain America rested on a red-gauntleted hand, his food barely touched.

Between silent ravenous mouthfuls, Thor glanced over at his new teammate, whose eyes had now slid inexorably closed.  The mortal man had fought bravely and skillfully, enough even to make the Warriors Three proud - and his leadership was so natural that even the headstrong asgardian prince hadn’t batted an eyelid at following his orders.

Now, though, that fierce and noble spirit had bled away, sheer empty exhaustion marring the handsome set of his brow.  Great purple bruises were starting to bloom around the cuts and grazes visible through the rips of his uniform, and his free arm was curled protectively around his left side -

His side -

Thor cursed himself as he flung back his chair with a plastic clatter, rushing to the captain as the other avengers looked up, startled.

"Captain - captain?" Thor said, crouching by Steve as he gently roused him.  The soldier looked at him muzzily.

"…huh?" he mumbled, blinking heavily before his eyes closed once more.  Thor gently pried Steve’s hand from his damaged side, and swore under his breath.  The red glove was sticky with blood.

"Thor?" Natasha asked, standing to see what the thunder god was looking at, before darting over to his side.  "Shit - Steve?  Steve, you need to wake up," she urged as she examined his wound.  When the soldier barely responded, Tony sprang into action.

"Hellicarrier, now.  Get him to the med bay, " he stated, his face scrunched as though doing mental arithmentic, "Can you carry him horizontally and keep pressure on the wound?  He needs as much blood at the top end as possible."

Thor nodded, is mind clearer than it had been for hours as he summoned Mjolnir to him and followed Tony’s directions without a word.


	2. Chapter 2

A harsh, steady beeping seeped into Thor’s brain, and he opened his eyes muzzily.  He was slumped, stiff and sore and scruffy still from the battle, on a barely comfortable chair, in front of a bed in a room that was too bright and too white.

He scrubbed his fingers into his eyes as his sleep-drugged mind awoke.  The med bay, the hellicarrier.  He’d taken Steve there, waited for the longest hours, insisted on sitting by his side - and had fallen asleep, of course.  Thor cursed himself inwardly - yet another duty he had failed.  Going by the last few days, he was a miserable excuse of a brother, a teammate, a friend.  It was a wonder that Mjolnir still heeded his call.

As the angry guilt curled coldly in the pit of his stomach, Thor looked at the prone captain.  Unconscious still, Steve was pale and bruised, with invading tubes snaking over his body and face.  A starched white sheet covered his body like a shroud as a machine by his bedside bleeped out the passing beats of his life.

The incessant pulse drilled its way into Thor’s aching skull, and he dropped his head into his hands.  Before him lay a mortal so fine and noble that he cast shadows over the greatest heroes of Asgard, laid low by the machinations of Thor’s own brother.  This was _his_ responsibility.  This was _his_ fault - and yet he had neglected his duties, failed to tend to Steve’s injuries, allowed him to suffer in Thor’s arrogance.  If Midgard were to lose its Captain due to his failures, Thor thought, he could never more bear to show his face in this realm.

Worse though, worse than this tumult of shame, was one small thought that burned painfully in his mind - one thought that filled him with more regret, more remorse, more pure aching _grief_ than any of the others.

He had hoped to make Steven his friend.


End file.
